


Journey of the Weary

by BumblingFangirl13



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Benny needs Dean to get over himself, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Dean Winchester and Feelings, Dean and Cas are in purgatory for a while, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Evil Lucifer, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Sam Winchester, I just dont think that cas could just poof away Sam's issues, IT'S HELL, Insomnia, Mental Breakdown, Mental Instability, Oh Sam, Post Season 7, Protective Sam Winchester, Purgatory, Riot the dog - Freeform, Sam Is So Done, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Sam Winchester Has Powers, Sam Winchester Whump, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Sam Winchester's Visions, Seizures, Team Free Purgatory, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, might add or delete tags as i go, ok... some comfort, pre season 8, sam is tired, they're trying their best, you cant just erase HELL
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-05-18 01:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14842742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BumblingFangirl13/pseuds/BumblingFangirl13
Summary: Sam doesn’t do so well after Dean and Cas get sucked into Purgatory after killing Dick.He knows he should do something to try and find Dean, but after Cas disappeared Same felt all the Hell seeping back in. It was as if Cas had been holding it inside himself but now that he’s gone there’s nothing to stop the memories. It’s not as bad as last time, but Sam feels himself breaking down. He drives around in the impala for a while before he accidentally hits a dog. He gathers the dog up and rushes to the vet in the nearest town.Sam’s eyes were wide as he glanced from the dog to the doctor, horrified. “I did this.”





	1. No Rest for the Wicked

The first time Sam considered ending it was when he finally came to terms with Dean and Cas being gone.

He had managed to get the impala working again after it had crashed into the SucroCorp sign and booked it out of there. After that he stopped at every dirt crossroads he came across and prayed in every church he drove by desperately trying to find out what had happened to Dean and Castiel, but no matter how many demons he summoned or how much he prayed it seemed that no demon knew where they were and the angels simply weren’t answering him. On top of that Meg and Kevin had both disappeared and for first time in a long time Sam was truly alone.

So as Sam sat at the grimy motel table methodically cleaning out guns from the trunk he simply couldn’t see any hope. He had been wandering around the country and had found himself drifting towards Dean’s favorite haunts. When he had opened the doors to the motels they had often frequented or the greasy restaurant chains Dean had loved it had broken some kind of dam in him and all the terror, all the fear, the knowing that this was it, that Dean was never coming back hit him harder than a cement truck.

So, as he sat cleaning weapon after weapon he couldn’t help but wonder if Dean couldn’t come back that maybe he could join him, should join him?

Sam put his gun back together and stared at it, shining in his palm, he sighed and gazed around the motel room not really seeing anything. The gun was heavy in his hand.

_NO._

Dean’s voice echoed in his head. _“This discussion does not require a weapons discharge! You feel this? This is real. Don’t check out on me yet brother.”_

_NO._

He slammed the weapon on the table. Not like this. Sam jumped up from the table, chair skidding over the tiles into the wall behind him, and threw the weapons back into his duffle. Tearing through the room the hunter gathered what little had and bolted to the Impala. Dead or alive Dean would never forgive him if he let his baby gather dust in some parking lot or get towed away. All Sam knew was he couldn’t stay still, not with so much around him reminding him of how much he had lost.

The dented Impala rocketed down the road as Sam floored the gas. He had to get away. Maybe if he was a thousand miles away from everything he could forget how every demon he summoned had sneered and said they didn’t know where his brother had gone, that they couldn’t bring him back and that he should just stop looking, that he should give up. Maybe if he could get far enough it would hurt less.

For the next week Sam wandered across the country. He went from Kansas to Wyoming to Montana. He rolled through the backroads intent on spending a few days at Rufus’ cabin just soaking in the woods and trees. The old cabin was saturated in memory but it was different than the outside world. For him Rufus’ cabin held some painful memories but they were somehow muted. Like every memory of Bobby and Rufus was buried in the stacks of books and dust.

The cabin had provided a safe place for both brothers and now one was returning.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

Sam had barely spent two days at the cabin when it happened.

He was in the middle of dinner (some kind of canned soup) when he was hit with a splitting headache. Sam clutched his head as the pain built, it felt like his head had been split open, sharp, searing, bolts of pain raced through him as the world warped around him.

“No! Not again!”

Sam groaned and fell out of his chair as the vision gripped him. There was a flare of light as the vision solidified and he could have screamed; there were bodies all around him, managing a look he caught sight of teeth and claws, vampires and werewolves. A vampire ran past him followed by another who ran through him and pinned the first man to a tree. The man held a silver knife.

_“Take a breath, calm down.”_

Sam’s heart stopped.

Dean.

The vampire stopped struggling in Dean’s grasp.

 _“Where’s the angel?”_ Dean was calm, driven, the vampire looked awed, _“You’re him, the human.”_

The blood covered hunter glared.

 _“Where’s the angel!”_ he barked.

_“I don’t know.”_

Dean blinked assessing the answer. _“Hm.”_ He seemed to accept the answer before swifty stabbing the vamps arm, pinning it to the tree, and then decapitating it with it’s own blade. He looked appraisingly at the makeshift weapon.

Suddenly the bloody, forest world flashed white and another skull splitting pain ripped though Sam as he was thrown back into his body.

When he could feel his body again the hunter bolted upright wincing as he felt bruises starting to form from when he’d fallen out of his chair. Absentmindedly Sam wondered if he’d had a seizure.

Almost as soon as that thought entered his mind Sam clapped a hand over his mouth and bolted to the bathroom, crouched over the toilet, and violently emptied his stomach. As he started to dry heave he let his forehead hit the toilet seat and groaned; visions had never been this bad before.

Sam felt like he had been doused in cold water. Glancing at the mirror on the back of the door Sam had a wild thought; what if this was connected to Cas? He had only been on the road for a few weeks but already he felt awful, as if the damage Cas had taken away, everything he had wiped away, cleansed, was slowly returning now that he was gone.

He should have known; ever since Cas and Dean had faced off against Dick Roman, and subsequently disappeared, he hadn't been able to sleep properly. At first he had brushed it off, insomnia and nightmares were perfectly normal in his line of work, but now that he thought about it everything that had gone wrong before seemed to be returning. It was as if Cas had been holding all the Hell inside himself but now that he was gone there was nothing to stop the memories. Thankfully there hadn’t been any hallucinations, but as Sam thought back he started to remember little things that, when he thought about it, should have tipped him off that something was wrong. He should have realized the nightmares were worse than usual, that his headaches lasted longer, the deja vu that would hit him afterwards, he should have realized it was all coming back.

Sam didn't know if you could take a repeat of the last couple weeks.

Absentmindedly he pressed down on the scar that crossed his left hand.

After fighting tooth and nail it was all gone, slipping away, down the drain all the way back to square one. The semblance of normal that Cas had been able to provide was gone, turned into one big living nightmare built on salt and blood and bone.

Stumbling out of the bathroom Sam haphazardly collected his stuff and tumbled back into the Impala. He couldn't afford to have another vision in a place that was bound to set them off anyways. Pulling away from the cabin Sam floored the gas and rocketed down the road. He just couldn't deal with the memories anymore especially now that the abilities were coming back, who knows what would appear next.

Who knows, maybe the bouts of telekinesis would come back, maybe he would start predicting the future, he wondered if the psychic abilities would progress into mind reading.

Delirious, Sam hardly noticed where he was going all he knew is that he was heading south. South, away from the cabin, away from the memories.

Sam drove for almost three days straight, hardly sleeping, barely eating, all he knew was that he had to stay on the road.

One night he found himself driving down the highway somewhere in Texas when out of nowhere a shaggy haired dog bounded into the road. Slamming on the brakes Sam tried to stop the car in time but was unsuccessful. As the impala screeched and lurched to a halt he clipped the dog, throwing it through the air.  

Sam sat, shell shocked, gripping the wheel.

He stayed there, frozen, for a good minute and a half before he finally came to his senses. Throwing the door open he fell out and ran towards the dog. After that Sam barely remembered what happened. All he knew is that he somehow managed to drive to a town find a veterinary clinic and bring the dog in.

When he stumbled through the door, dog in his arms, covered in its blood, he was met by a startled woman in scrubs.

“Help, I need help, the dog needs help!” Sam shivered as he held the bleeding dog in his arms.

The nurse’s eyes widened and she pointed to the door, “That way!”

Sam staggered after the nurse, “He just, he just came out of nowhere, right in front of my car!” He stumbled through the door frame, “We need a doctor, are you a doctor?!”

The nurse lead him to a steel table and helped him lay the dog down, “Doctor’s coming sir, but I’m not sure-”

Sam grit his teeth, “You’re not sure what?! This is an animal hospital, you save animals!!!”

“Sir-”

“SAVE THIS ANIMAL!!!”

“Okay, Roberta, can you escort this gentleman out?” Sam started and turned around at the soft yet firm voice.

She glanced over Sam as the nurse grumbled out an annoyed; “Yes.”

Sam’s eyes were wide as he glanced from the dog to the doctor, horrified. “I did this.”

The slightly flustered Roberta gently took his arm, “C’mon.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

At this point in his life Sam really should have been used to hard plastic chairs. The amount of hospitals and institutions he had been to really should have desensitized him to how disagreeable they could be by now. Yet, as he sat in the cramped waiting-room chair, nervously waiting for any news on the injured dog, he had never been more uncomfortable.

To be fair to the furniture it wasn’t just the chair’s fault. There was a chill creeping through the room that unsettled him, reminded him things he would rather forget.

Icy fingers trailing their way up his spine, causing goosebumps to ripple over his skin.

Icy fingers settling around his wrists and ankles.

Icy fingers around his neck.

Frowning at the thermostat, Sam pulled his jacket tightly around himself, heedless of the bloodstain on his shirt.

Adjusting his position in the uncomfortable chair Sam pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Something about the overly clean office was making him feel antsy, on edge, and the persistent cold wasn’t exactly helping either. Shifting again in the chair Sam tried to get his nearly 6’5” body to curl into a position that didn’t have a hard edge of some kind poking into him. Twisting around he let his head drop, maybe he could finally get a few minutes of sleep.

Yeah…

Sleep…

“Sir? Sir!”

Sam came to slowly.

He felt like he had only been out for a few seconds but judging by the worried look on the nurse’s face it had been far longer.

As he sat up he could feel her small hand on his back. “Wha-?” Before he could even get a word out the nurse was helping him stand. Finding his balance again Sam quietly thanked the nurse and looked up to find the doctor from earlier staring at him with a softer, kinder expression than before.

Trying to look as non-threatening as possible he addressed the doctor, “How is he.”

The doctor, Sam glanced at her name tag, _Amelia Richardson_ , sighed; “He sustained some serious internal bleeding and there’s at least two leg fractures that I can see right now,” she offered Sam a tense smile, “but with some TLC he should pull through for you. ”

Sam let out a shaky breath, “Thanks, Doctor.” He offered both women a polite nod and turned to leave.

“You’re gonna take the dog?”

He turned back around, surprised. “I would,” He glanced between the two women, perplexed. “but he’s not mine.”

Amelia raised an eyebrow, “He’s not anybody's.”

“I-” Sam floundered trying to think up an excuse, “I spend a lot of time on the road-”

She cut him off, “Don’t you think you’re responsible?”

Sam was stunned. “Why do you think I brought him here?”

Amelia stared at him, biting comment on the tip of her tongue. She wanted to berate him, to guilt him into taking the dog, but something was stopping her. This man standing before her just seemed like he was at the end of his rope. She couldn’t just dump a dog on him like that.

She sighed and shook her head, “You’re right,” his shoulders slumped and Amelia felt a matching pang; whatever this guy was going though it had to be rough. “You did better by him than most people would have.”

“Really?” Sam said, frowning, “It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

Amelia nodded, “I wish more people thought that way. The world would be a far better place if they did.”

A humorless laugh worked its way out of Sam’s chest. “Lady, even if you could save all the dogs out there the world would still be broken.” With that he turned on his heel and practically fled from the room leaving the two women to stare after him.

Sprinting through the parking lot he threw himself back into the impala. Taking a few heavy breaths Sam let all the tension bleed from him. He blew out a long sigh and let his head fall against the steering wheel. He couldn't do anymore running tonight.

Tired and cold Sam drove around the town until he found a reasonably priced motel. After paying the half asleep guy at the front counter Sam pulled his duffe from the trunk, slouched his way to his room, jostled the lock until the door opened and fell face first onto the bed.

He didn’t know how to describe how he was feeling. He felt guilty for not taking the dog, guilty for not saving Dean and Cas, guilty for not saving Bobby and Rufus, tired from all the sleepless driving, and somehow on top of it all he was hungry. It wasn’t like that was a new thing; something as mundane as an empty stomach had never really been important in his life.

Sam buried his face in his pillow and tried to will the emptiness away.

His body felt like it was made of lead. He felt fuzzy, the world going in and out of focus, like he was falling asleep. A sudden warmth crept up his neck.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed, maybe some cold water would help.

The next thing Sam knew he was on the floor, the world fading in and out around him.

He couldn’t move.

Something was wrong.

Later he would recall the shaking, the uncontrolled spasms.

Later he would be able to piece those six long minutes together.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, but by the time he was able to sit up without vertigo and nausea pinning him to the floor the sun had risen, making the curtains glow with soft, golden light.

Sam groaned and rubbed his throbbing temples. Was this going to become a regular thing? Back when he had started scratching his way through his wall Sam vaguely remembered Dean telling him that he had been prone to seizures. He supposed that being trapped in a cage with two furious archangels would do that to you.

Slowly, Sam made his way to a somewhat vertical position. Once he was sure his could stand without his knees buckling he made his way to the bathroom. Gripping the sink Sam dared a glance in the mirror. He huffed out a sigh; there were dark, nearly black, circles under his eyes, evidence of how poorly he’d been sleeping and he appeared slightly gaunt, not surprising seeing as the last real food he’d eaten (not counting the bad gas station coffee and granola) had been the almost expired can of soup at Rufus’ cabin.

Almost on autopilot Sam went through his usual bathroom routine.

He showered under the weak, lukewarm motel water.

He shaved with a razor that needed changing.

He brushed his teeth with the smallest amount of toothpaste necessary.

Feeling a bit more human Sam trudged over to the curtains and ripped them open letting light flood the room.

Wincing slightly he pulled the thin white under curtain back over the windows, he didn’t want to give people the ability to spy on him.

With the curtains closed again Sam grabbed his jacket and wallet and then headed out the door. He figured as long as he was staying here he might as well get something to eat.

Keeping his head low and his shoulders hunched Sam walked through the town until he found a small diner.

As he opened the door a friendly bell the top jingled to announce his arrival. The diner was cozy. Families filled the space, children happily slathering pancakes and waffles in rivers of maple syrup while parents looked on fondly. No one seemed to mind that the booths were peeling or that the counter was slightly chipped. A sad smile flickered across Sam’s face.

Before he could find the table himself a smiling blond woman popped up almost out of nowhere. A pair of glasses hung from a cord around her neck and her soft smile pushed lines up around her eyes. Wisps of grey hair escaped at her temples.

She looked expectantly at Sam, “Table for one, or?” she trailed off.

He grimaced, “No… It’s just me.”

She gave him a blinding smile and lead him over to a seat by the window. Sam glanced at her name badge. “Uh Candace?”

She turned back to him, “Yes?”

Sam eyed the foot traffic as it paraded across the glass. “Is it possible I don’t sit by a window?”

She frowned sympathetically, “I’m sorry, all our one seaters are by the windows. I would move you but,” she gestured to the rest of the room, “we’re a bit full right now what with the breakfast rush and all.”

“Oh,” Sam shook his head, “no that's fine, I was just wondering.” Sam slipped into the chair and took the menu she offered. “So, what’s good?”

Candace laughed, “I like to think everything here is pretty good, but there are a few things that stand out. If you’re looking for something sweet we’ve got these wonderful silver dollar pancakes, or if you’d like to go for something a bit healthier we do a ‘do it yourself’ omelet. If you look here,” she tapped the bottom corner of the menu, “we have a whole list of vegetables and toppings you can add.”

Sam nodded, letting her words rush over him, only half listening.

He ended up ordering some variation on their classic omelette.

As he ate he watched the people on the sidewalk. How could they be so oblivious? How could they not know what had happened to the world, to him, to his family? How could they walk by, memories full of family get togethers, summer days, and after church brunches, when his head was full of grotesque memories of icy hands gleefully playing with his own shredded organs.

He looked away.

Suddenly the last half of his omelette didn’t seem edible.

As if in a dream he went through the motions of paying and boxing up his food.

Walking back toward the motel he watched as a family passed him; a couple and two children. They were laughing, the children holding slowly melting ice-cream cones, and happily walking a fluffy-haired golden retriever. He felt something tug in his gut.

Abruptly, his feet changed directions. Hadn't he once read somewhere that keeping a pet was a good way of coping with depression? Something about having something to take care of helping take the focus off of loss? Sam’s brain supplied images of the long haired dog he had hit; broken leg and bloody fur imprinted in his memory..

Another cheery jingle announced his arrival. Startled, Sam glanced up and saw that the door had a bell on it that he hadn’t noticed before. Shrugging, he stepped up to the front counter of that same overly clean waiting room from the night before. The same tired nurse was waiting for him.

“Hi,” he started, “I was here last night-”

“You’re here for the dog aren’t you.” It didn’t sound like a question. She gave him an understanding smile, “Thought you’d be back.”

He nodded and fiddled with the edge of his to-go box. “Yeah... You’re sure it’s okay if I take him?”

She huffed, a slight smile making its way to her face. “I’m sure. Come on,” she beckoned him through the same door he gone through last night. “Let’s get you that dog.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LOVE getting all of your kudos and comments!!! I really appreciate all the feedback!!!
> 
> Also, all my chapter titles are going to come from songs and/or lyrics. The first chapter was from No Rest For the Wicked by Cage the Elephant, this one is Dogs of War by Pink Floyd!


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